


Seeing Stars

by hiraethcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Unicorns, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 16:53:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30024858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraethcas/pseuds/hiraethcas
Summary: Not sure what to put here yet. Sam and Dean hunt a unicorn for its blood and end up finding Castiel.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 1





	Seeing Stars

**Author's Note:**

> For reference, Castiel is mostly built the same way a satyr is. I'll probably include my own art of him at some point.

"Sammy, come _on_. You don't even know if the freakin' thing is real, we're just wasting precious time."

"Dean." Sam looked over to his brother in exasperation, willing the urge to roll his eyes away. "We have a real shot at this. All the lore adds up, and even if it ends up not being real, so what? You gonna bitch and moan about having to take a walk?"

Dean opened his mouth to speak, shaking his head and closing it when no reply came to mind. He turned his head for a few moments before turning back to Sam. "Fine. We'll go on your little field trip, but don't get your hopes up over this- this- this unicorn you're fantasizing about," Dean said, pointing a finger at Sam. God, just his luck that his stupid little brother wanted to harvest unicorn blood. Nobody had even seen one of the damn things for centuries, what got into Sam's head that he could find one?

Sam held his hands up defensively, nodding slightly and beginning to haul himself to his feet. "Okay. Okay, alright. Um…" Scrubbing a hand over his face, Sam stood still for a moment to think, running a hand through his hair before walking over to the door. "Go, uh- go get your things packed, and I'll get the knife. Meet you at the car in five?"

Dean nodded his head in reply as he sighed and made his way to his room. After arriving, he started to toss miscellaneous items into his duffel bag, collecting everything he thought he'd need. It wasn't much, considering he didn't believe there'd be a unicorn in the first place, but it wasn't like a decent handgun couldn't do the trick. Bottle of water for his travels. A simple dagger, just in case. 

_God, what a pain in the ass_ , Dean thought absentmindedly, securing the straps on his bag and giving it a tug for good measure. _Of course Sam wants to hunt a unicorn. For fucks sake_. He tossed the bag over his shoulder, glancing around the room once and then twice to make sure he hadn't missed anything. 

_Alright. Time to go get us a unicorn._

"Sammy!" Dean called out, closing his door behind him. 

"Over here," Sam called back, unlocking the front door and pushing it open. "By the door." He watched as Dean came into view, cringing at the thump of his boots. "Please don't track dirt in the house."

"What do you think I am, an animal? I would never," Dean frowned, puffing his chest out. Admittedly, his shoe cleaning habits could use some polishing, but he was doing the world a favor just by kicking his feet a bit before coming through the front door.

"Yeah. Okay, well, let's go," Sam replied, redirecting the incredulous look he had fixed on Dean with the hopes that he hadn't seen it, motioning at Dean to get out. He turned the lock and shut the door behind them. 

"Where's this garden place from the lore, anyway?" Dean asked as he walked alongside Sam, feeling for his keys as they approached the Impala. 

"Well, for one, it's in the forest. Like, buried deep, but I drew up a spell to get us further in so we don't have to walk that far," Sam explained, opening up the passenger's side of the car and tossing his own bag in while sliding into his seat.

"Great. Those spells always make me dizzy," Dean groaned out, pushing his bag onto Sam's lap and starting the car. 

"You know, I kinda feel bad," Sam spoke up from his side of the car, resting his cheek on the window to look out at their surroundings. "It's not killing anything, or causing any trouble. I mean, it's a _unicorn_. Maybe we don't have to kill it, y'know? We could just take some blood," he continued, thoughtful as much as he was guilty. 

"Right, so we just walk up to it and say, 'Hey, can we have some of your blood? No harm, no foul.' Like it's gonna fuckin' buy that, Sam." Dean's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he spoke. Of all the stupid things they've done together, this had to be a contender for the stupidest.

"Dude, c'mon, be reasonable," Sam chided, casting a weary glance at Dean. "I implore you to be a _little_ optimistic. Just a little. Is it that hard?"

Dean rolled his eyes in full power this time, groaning again and knocking his head back against the car seat. "Alright, fine. We can try drawing blood." Dean looked at Sam before speaking again, the wheels in his head turning as he chose his words carefully. "But if it doesn't work, you know what we gotta do."

"Yeah, I know," Sam said in reply, his voice growing quiet. Finding and getting viable unicorn blood was important, but it didn't stop him and his righteous little moral compass from feeling bad over the life it might cost. Sam wasn't even sure if he could live with himself if he killed a unicorn.

"Woods you're looking for are the ones outside of town, right?"

"Yep. Once we get there, I can use my spell and get us pretty far in.'

"Sounds good to me," Dean said, adjusting the placement of his hands on the steering wheel. He shot a quick look at Sam, readjusting his hands again as he formulated something to say to his brother. 

"You know, um. I was kinda being a dick about the unicorn not being real and all that. I didn't mean it like that," he said tentatively, taking another peek at Sam to see if he moved at all. He averted his eyes to the road when Sam shifted in his seat.

"Nah, Dean, you're fine. I'm just nervous." Sam picked at the cuff of his sleeve, pursing his lips. "I just hope I don't have to kill it, y'know?"

Dean nodded at that, attempting to seem as caring as he could. He did understand, and he did care that his brother was upset over the possibility of having to kill a mythical creature that no one's seen in forever, but Dean lived alright thinking unicorns were fake. He'd live just fine afterwards, if they were to kill one. Still, Sam was visibly upset about the ordeal.

"Look, how about this. Worse comes to worse, we leave it alone, okay? If we can't draw blood without killing it, we'll leave. We can summon Crowley, I'm sure that jackass has some stashed somewhere. And you'll get to see a unicorn. How does that sound?"

Sam brightened a bit at Dean's words, letting his tensed shoulders fall and relax. "Okay. Sounds like a plan." 

***

"Here. We're here," Sam said, tapping Dean a couple times. "Pull over. Behind a shrub or something so you're hidden."

"Why do we have to hide?"

"I don't know, but I have a hunch that if people see an empty car parked near a huge forest that all the locals are scared of, they're gonna suspect something. You're not the one hiding, it's the car." 

"Ugh. I guess," Dean muttered, bringing the car to a slow roll as he drove into a small opening between a couple of shrubs. Sam slung his bag over his shoulder and pushed Dean's across the center console, checking his bag while Dean parked between a few taller bushes. 

Shutting the car off and pocketing his keys, Dean grabbed his bag, checking the main compartment to make sure he had what he needed before getting out of the car.

"You got your spell ready?" 

"Yeah," Sam said, "here." He retrieved a spiraling dagger from an outer pocket on his duffel bag and held it out handle-first to Dean.

"Woah. They make these?" Dean fell quiet and reached for the dagger, cradling the tri-edged blade in his palm, awestruck. He twisted it and held it closer to his face to inspect the symbols etched into the metal.

"There's only a few of them that exist. They were invented when unicorn hunting was at its prime. The spell I'm doing isn't a normal transportation spell, it's to get us closer to the unicorn itself," Sam said, drawing a few wrinkled papers from his bag and a small, bulging pouch.

"Right. Naturally." Dean watched as Sam laid a wooden bowl on the ground, emptying the contents of the pouch into the bowl and stirring them around with his finger. 

Most of this stuff confused the hell out of him, so he chose not to interfere, but he couldn't help feeling a little curious about what unicorn history was really like. Any real lore that remained from centuries past was buried under multitudes of fables and spun stories, and telling one apart from the other became difficult when you didn't really know what you were looking for.

"Alright, this spell requires blood from both of us. You know the drill." Dean snapped out of his thoughts when Sam started talking again, looking up at his brother briefly before returning his gaze to the dagger in his grip. Slowly, he opened his other palm, uncurling his fingers and laying the tip of the blade against his palm. It was impossibly sharp and cold against his skin, cooling the heat he radiated and calming the thrum of his blood. As if it were soothing him. Assuaging his excitement. It was a terrible blend of exhilarating as well as placid, and Dean suspected that maybe he shouldn't keep staring at the sigils on the blade.

"Dean?"

He dug the blade into his palm and stifled a wince. Blood beaded at the edges, flowing in rivulets down his fingers. It pooled at his fingertips and dripped onto the asphalt below, an undignified splatter. The warm consistency shook him out of his haze, if only slightly, an unpleasant feeling that Dean somehow never got used to. It didn't matter how often it had to be done. He didn't like it.

"Yeah. I got it."

Dean squeezed his hand around the gash, watching as his blood trickled out into the bowl. He waited a few more seconds as he eyed the edge of the woods, unperturbed when Sam took his hand and started wrapping it up. Dean hadn't noticed him come closer.

"You okay? You seem kinda out of it," Sam commented, pulling the cloth around Dean's hand taut. Dean gave a perfunctory nod in response. He seemed inattentive, though to Sam, it was just Dean being Dean.

Sam took the blade from Dean's hand to perform his part of the spell and furrowed his eyebrows when he had to tug it out. "Dude. What's your deal?"

"Huh?"

Dean turned away from the forest to look at Sam, lips parted slightly. He looked just as confused as Sam felt. "The blade," he murmured, looking from Sam to the dagger and then to his tingling hand. "That blade's fucked up. It fucked me up," Dean said, louder this time, narrowing his eyes as if to accuse the dagger. 

"Um, well, you know, to be fair, it didn't have a say. You fucked yourself up with it, technically."

Dean glared at Sam and scoffed. "That's not what I meant, douche. It-... It felt weird. Like, like I was feeling something from it, and when you took it from me, it just- it just stopped," he clarified, gesturing with his hands for added clarification. 

"Right."

Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. He could punch Sam for the look his little brother was giving him. It said _Maybe you've had your last concussion, Dean._

He could tell Sam was unconvinced, and honestly, he would be too if he could hear himself, but it pissed him off regardless. "Whatever, just get on with it." 

Sam wrapped the spell up and bandaged his own hand quickly enough. Once the incantation was complete, Sam threw a box of matches at Dean's chest, laughing when he fumbled them. "Fuck you," Dean spat, catching the box before it hit the ground. "Look at that. My _cat-like reflexes_ saved me." He puffed his chest out a little and turned his nose up at Sam.

Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, suppressing a light chuckle in favor of hurrying the ritual along. "Okay, tough guy, just light one already. Make sure you're holding everything you're gonna bring, or else it won't travel with you."

"Obviously. Knew that," Dean muttered, picking his duffel up off of the ground. "You keep the dagger. I don't need whatever happened just now happening again."

Sam nodded. "Of course," he said, and Dean could hear the " _Of course. That makes total sense, Dean. Sure, the dagger put you under a spell. Did you take your meds?_ " without Sam having to say it. 

He swallowed the scoff bubbling up in his throat and consequently, his ego, popping a match out of the box. With a deep breath, he struck it and tossed the fire into the bowl, observing as the entire thing went up in flames. 

Bracing himself never quite did the trick. Being sent somewhere via spell always demanded a toll that Dean was not willing to give. God forbid he not be able to use the restroom - _for a week_. Not again.

And, as Dean's vision went black, he had a sneaking suspicion that he probably was not, in fact, going to be able to use the restroom for another week.

***

When Dean was able to open his eyes again, nary more than a few seconds had passed, though it felt much longer to him, personally.

"Sam?"

Unnerved, Dean whipped his head, left, right, back the other way again as he looked around for his brother. Fuck. Something must have screwed up. Dean scrambled for his phone, delving into the side pocket of his bag to retrieve it. A silent prayer that he had at least a bar of service went out into the world.

"Sam, c'mon, pick up," Dean said under his breath, pacing as the phone rang. A moment later, he heard a telltale click sound. He held his breath anxiously.

"Dean?"

"Oh, thank God. I thought you got zapped to the bottom of the ocean or some shit," Dean rushed out, exhaling the breath he'd been holding. "Where the hell are you? I'm in the middle of the woods with barely any service, for fucks sake. I have no idea how to find this thing either, Sam."

"Okay, okay, just calm down," his younger brother's voice came crackling through the speaker, fuzzy but comprehensible. It'd have to do. "It seems like the spell only worked on you. I can tweak it and get there soon, if you want to wait, but I can tell you how to get closer."

Dean paused for a moment and stared blankly at the ground. His luck only seemed to worsen throughout the day. A tingling sensation in his palm brought up the vague memory of how Dean felt when he held the spiral dagger. 

"What about the blade?"

"You mean you don't have it?" A beat. "I don't have it, Dean. I thought it might've come with you, like a fluke or something. If it did, it'll be around."

"Alright, I'll, uh- I'll look," Dean replied, rubbing his good hand over his face and sighing. Okay. Need to find the blade. Look for blade. Get blade.

"Okay, well, I'm gonna work on fixing the spell so I can use it, so just- just, uh, call me if you find it. Or actually, call me if you _don't_ find it."

"Yep. Got it. But what abou-"

Before Dean could add anything else, Sam ended the call, a long and annoyingly monotonous tone playing in Dean's ear. He cursed under his breath and took the phone away from his ear to glare through the phone at Sam.

Great. This is just great. _Everything'll be just fine_ , Dean thought to himself, even if it provided no real comfort.

Dean slipped his phone back into the pocket of his duffel bag and started to examine his surroundings, noting the leaves that crunched under his boots. This area was fairly dense, and he had no idea how far in Sam had sent him.

As Dean continued on, the sole of his boot hit something solid, driving the object further into the dirt. Crap. Was that the dagger?

Stepping back, Dean dropped to his knees and brushed dirt and leaves aside, uncovering a leather-wrapped handle with familiar sigils burned into the material. Pulling it out of the dirt took no effort, and here the dagger was, laying in Dean's palm again.

"Fuck," he hissed, dropping the dagger. The tingling in his injured palm flared up the moment he'd picked the dagger up, subsiding only after he dropped it. "Damn cursed blade. Damn stupid spell, screwing up. _Damn it_."

Carefully, Dean unzipped his bag with it still hanging off of his shoulder, rooting around for a washcloth. It was a bit ratty and definitely hadn't been cleaned in a while, judging by the old blood stains and mystery splotch on the corner, but something was better than nothing. Dean reached out for the dagger and scooped it up with the cloth, bundling it up. He stared down at the dagger once he finished wrapping it.

A few moments passed before Dean had the mind to tuck the dagger away in his duffel, zipping the bag back up as he stood to his feet. He brushed his hands off, wiping them absentmindedly on his jeans. Right. Um… what was he supposed to do?

Dean patted himself down like it was going to jog his memory, peering down at his body.

Oh. Right. Call Sam. 

Dean wasn't sure how he forgot.

He shook the thought away and grabbed his phone. Sam's number was among the first in his contacts, which Dean wasn't really thankful at all for until now. If it wasn't at the top, Dean may not have remembered where to find it. He really needed Sam to get that dagger off of him.

"Hey, Dean, did you find it?" Sam's voice sputtered through the phone, significantly more broken up than the last time he'd called. Uh oh. Not a good sign.

"Yeah, I got it," Dean said, patting his bag to show for it despite the lack of Sam's presence. "What now?"

"Okay, um, the way you were facing when you appeared should be the direction you walk in. Do you think you know where you were or where you were facing?"

"Yeah, I only took a few steps forward, I'm still facing the way I was when I got here."

"Right. Right. You're gonna wanna just…. Keep going forward, until you see anything strange or a change of scenery. There's supposed to be a garden of some sort buried in these woods that no one tends to anymore, so it's probably overgrown. Y'got that?"

"Yeah, copy," Dean replied, moving his phone away from his face for a moment to look around. Nothing stood out just yet. "What about that spell? Sam, you need to get your ass over here, I seriously think something's wrong with that blade you gave me. Like, forreal. I'm not kiddin', man."

"Well, there were some minor hiccups, but I'm on my way. And what do you mea-"

"On your way?"

Sam fell silent. He didn't speak again for a few seconds. "Dean, I- I had to hitch a ride back home because you took off with the keys. I didn't bring a spare _anything_ for the spell. If you'd packed more mindfully, maybe I wouldn't have had to-"

"Okay, okay, enough," Dean interjected, pressing his lips into a line. He made a mental note to rag on Sam about his stupid unicorn hunt later. "I'll text you if I find anything. You better haul ass over here before I find and kill it."

Dean could _feel_ the eyeroll Sam was sending through the phone. "I'll be there soon. Don't do anything stupid, Dean." With that, Sam hung up, leaving the woods quiet again. If Dean didn't know any better, he'd say they were closing in on him, but he shrugged it off as a side effect of whatever the dagger was doing to him.

"Okay, gotta keep going," Dean whispered, mostly to himself, trudging forward. He'd gotten all of 20 feet along when his phone buzzed in his bag. One long, 5 second vibration. Shit. That meant that he didn't have any service. 

Fuck. Well, he did tell Sam to hurry his ass up. Dean just had to hope that he would.


End file.
